Clockwork Tulsa
by Trench Mouth
Summary: Set after the novel. Things are getting rough...er than usual. Ponyboy, now 15, wanders through Tulsa, realizing that things are no longer typical, no longer ordinary, no longer dull and no longer safe...for most people, anyway.
1. A Clockwork Tulsa

Disclaimer : I do not own the Outsiders. Any words that are unfamilliar are not mine either.

Notes: Um...this takes place a several months after the book. It's now sometime during the summer.

--

"What's it going to be then, eh?"

I had been running, and had been somewhere in the middle of Shepard Territory when I heard a scream. I hurried down the street and came to a stop in front of a darkened alley. At the other end, six hoods I didn't recognize was holding down one girl which I did. I had seen her several times around the neighborhood, but I didn't know her name. She still had her panties on, although not much else. The scene in front of me seemed awful familiar. I had read something like this not too long ago. My new favorite book.

"Well, " I couldn't stop the words from coming out, and I was talking real loud " If it isn't fat stinking billygoat Billyboy in poison.How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap stinking chip-oil?" I reached into my back pocket," Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunich jelly, thou." I pulled out the razor I carried in my back pocket and pulled out the blade. It wasn't a switch or a butterfly knife. It was a real straight razor. Darry got it for me for by birthday few weeks ago. He said that I was now old enough for my own 'britva'. I learned two very important things that day. First, Darry pays closer attention to what I'm doing and reading than I had orginally thought. And secondly, and most importantly, Darry had a scene of humor. Go figure.

Although relations between the Soc's and us Greasers has been less violent recently- not stopped all together,but less frequent attacks -, a new gang was trying to muscle in on Shepard's Territory. It had gotten so violent just on our side of the tracks, several people I know started carrying pooshka's...uh...heaters, including Tim Shepard. I figured that's who these ...prestoopniks were with the new would be invading gang-bangers.

In all honesty, I probably could have planned this better. They did let go of the girl. She ran past me, still crying, still nearly naked. But now I had six big bad hoodlums staring me down. They weren't approaching yet. Still probably trying to figure out what the hell I just said. Hell, these guys probably never read a book that doesn't have pictures.

"What's it going to be then, eh?"

I probably could had thought that one through more, too. Shit, I was the fastest runner in the school, hell, maybe in the whole damn town. I could have beat it outta there, no problem. These slow , dim creatures would never catch me. But noooooooooooo. I had to taunt the S.O.B's. Darry's right, I don't use my head.

Surprisingly, only one guy came forward. I was expecting all six to pounce at once. I waved my razor toward them, as menacingly as I could. The idiot didn't think to step back. I cut his cheek. He didn't seem to notice at first. He cursed when he did, and called me a few things I do not wish to repeat, then his five cronies stepped forward. I was about to bolt when I heard a gun cock from behind me. I really hoped that it wasn't pointed at me.

I glanced over my shoulder, and let out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding. Behind me stood Curly Shepard, in all of his delinquent glory.

He threatened to shoot them if they didn't leave right now. Except he used alot more cuss words and wasn't as articulate.

They left, yelling some threats of their own. 'We'll be back!' ' You'll be sorry!' you know, that kinda bullshit.

"Good timing." I told him, once the Neanderthals were outta sight. He tucked the gun into his waistband. " How'dja know I was here?"

"Well the girl runnin' down the street, cryin' an' in her underpants was a good clue." Curly told me.

"Oh...right..."

"Man, you could'a gotten yerself kill if I hadn't stepped in. Christ, man, where was yer head at?"

This was all pretty funny coming from Curly. I would have pointed out that he was being kinda of hypocritical, but I figured it had too many syllables for him, so I just smirked alittle. Shrugged, " Just out for a run. " I put the razor back in my pocket.

Curly shook his head, " You need a lift home?"

I nodded and we headed to a car parked a little further down the street. After getting into the car, we headed down the street. We sat in silence for a moment, then I decided to point out, " Uh, Curly...you don't have your license."

"Wha's yer point?" He asked

"Well...isn't this kinda...ya know...breaking the law?"

"...wha's yer point?"

I shook my head," Isn't breaking the law kind of..you know...something you're not allowed to do while in Probation?"

He shrugged, " Naw, man. It's cool."

Right. " Well, isn't owning a firearm a violation of your Probation?"

"...n...naw."

A beat. " Does Tim know you have a gun."

"No. And he ain't gunna find out. You can't tell 'im about the gun."

I knew the drill. " What gun?"

His brows furrowed in confusion. " My gun. You can't tell no one about it."

I laughed. It wasn't a snort, or a short chuckle, or a giggle fit. No, it was long, loud, boisterous laughter. Curly was a nice guy, and all. A good friend to have, but man, was he just so slow sometimes.

"Wha's so funny?" He asked, pulling up infront of my house.

"You are just dumber than a bag of hammers."

"I thought you was suppost ta be smart, Pony.."

I smirked, " Oh, I is plenty smart, Curly.." I opened the car door.

"Insulting a person with a gun ain't smart."

I chuckled and got out of the car, "You should stick with a blade, Curly."

"Oh, yeah? Should I get me a shiny new razor?"

"Just because Tim has a gun, doesn't mean you need one. Get rid of it. It's not like you'd actually use it."

"What make's you say that?"

"You don't have the yarbles to shoot anyone, Curly." I closed the car door.

As I walked toward the step, I could of swore I heard Curly ask, " What the hell is yarbles?'

--

Ok. The first things Ponyboy says, the whole fat stinking billygoat thing was takin straight from the book A Clockwork Orange. He quotes it because the scene infront of him, the six gang members about the rape the girl, is identical to Chapter two of A Clockwork Orange when Alex and his droogs run into Billyboy and his. The razor (Britva) is the weapon that Alex has in the beginning of the book, which is why Darry got one for Ponyboy. The ' what's it going to be then, eh?' is said by Alex several times in the first chapter before any action starts, and it said at the beginning of each of the three sections of the book.

Yarbles balls/testicles

Britva razor

pooshka Gun

prestoopnik Criminals


	2. An Ideal Brother

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders...kinda wish I owned Two Bit, though...

--

I heard Darry on the phone in the living room,while I was making breakfast in the kitchen. He came in after he hung up. He didn't say anything. He was just kind of staring at me. Glaring at me, probably... I didn't turn around to look at him.

"Congratulations." He said all of the sudden. There was a cold sarcasm in his voice that made me think I was in trouble.

"Huh?" Was my articulate answer at 7:45 on a Saturday morning.

" I gather you are to be congratulated." I heard him sit down at the table, and the crinkled of the newspaper, but I had the feeling he wasn't reading it..

"Nothing I like more than to be congratulated." I said, I mean, I was already in trouble for something, why not be a smart ass, too?" I find the pleasure immeasurably increased by knowing what for."

"Haven't you heard?" He was mocking me now. "That was Tim on the phone." He told me. " Says some girl nearly got raped last night."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah...she said that the boy that saved her started yelling something about billygoats and yarbles."

I tensed slightly.

"Sound familiar, Pone?"

"Yeah...well...uh..Hey, I'm not the only kid in this town who reads, you know..."

"She also said that he carried a straight razor instead of a regular blade."

"Oh, like I'm the only kid in this town who carries a razor?"

" - and had auburn hair-"

"Oh, like I'm the only kid with -"

"Ponyboy." He cut me off and finally looked over at him. That crinkling noise I heard was Darry rolling up the newspaper. I got the feeling he was going to hit me with it.

I was about say something, but Soda came in. He could tell the second he stepped foot into the kitchen that he was interrupting something. He looked at me, then at Darry, then smiled, " I hope I aint interruptin a feel good family moment, here," He joked. I grinned. Darry almost grinned. Almost.

"Can't you ever be serious?" Darry asked him.

I could of let Soda answer, but apparently, I was not yet done being a smart ass, so I said," Darry, please don't say such dreadful things to Soda. Seriousness would be very unbecoming. Good morning. Please, be as trivial as you can."

"Alright, that's it..." Darry got up and started toward me.

Soda said, " I ain't gettin' in the middle of this," and made a dash for the bathroom.

His hit me in the side of the head with the rolled up newspaper. I knew he'd hit me. " What the hell were you thinking?" He asked me.

Well, gee, " Why I'm I in trouble for this?" I knew that answering a question with a question was not a good defense when arguing with Darry. But I thought it was a far question, " I mean, I saved the girl, didn't I? You should be proud of me!"

"I am proud of you, Pone." He sounded like he meant it, but he then hit me with the newspaper again.

"If you're so pound of me, why'dja hit me again?"

He hit me again.

"What the hell?"

He hit me again. I'm guessing that last time was 'cause I cussed.

He sighed, and leaned against the counter, " Ponyboy, you could have gotten killed last night."

"But I didn't"

"But you could have. It would have been 6 against 1."

"But I didn't. Honestly, Dare, the second the girls was outta harms way, I was gone."

"Gone?"

"Yeah, yeah. Gone. I beat it outta there."

"You ran?"

"Yeah, I ran. Man, those guys were big, dumb and real slow. And I'm like The Flash, you know? I can react, think, and move faster than anybody. I was gone. They were left eating my dust, Darry, really."

Darry seemed to think about that for a moment. "Huh," was all he said. Then he hit me again with the newspaper.

"What was that for?" I asked him.

"That was for being cocky. Now watch the eggs. They're gunna burn." He went and sat down.

By the time I finished making breakfast, Soda came out the bathroom, his hair wet and wearing nothing but a towel.

"You two work out...what ever you needed to have worked out?" He asked us, getting his eggs and some jam.

I said yes, Darry said, " Um Hm."

"Good," He smiled the way only Soda could smile, and sat on the counter, " 'Cause ya'll know I don't like it when you fight." He started to eat his breakfast and then it was oddly quiet in the normally noisy house.

After Darry finished his breakfast, he cut us all a piece of chocolate cake. Soda had gotten up and put on a Lloyd Price record.

Darry helped me with the dishes when we all finished eating, then he hurried off to work. Soda left for work 10 minutes later, when Steve showed up.

Then I was alone in the house. I figured Two-Bit was hung over somewhere, probably in some blonds bedroom. I managed to keep myself entertain for about an hour with Saturday morning cartoons before I decided to leave the house.

--

Ok, main dialouge at the beginning between Darry and Ponyboy about the congatulations is from Wilde's An Ideal Husband. As is the part of being serious. Darry knew how Pony would reply when he said ' I gather you are to be congulated' but he kinda stepped into the serious one. Hence Ponyboy being a smart ass on Soda's behalf...

And Soda said he doesn't like being in the middle of an argument, so It seemed logical to me that he would leave the room.


	3. Meshes of the Morning

Disclaimer : I do not own the Outsiders, or any films mentioned in this chapter.

Second chapter in under 24 hours...woot.

--

I have a crush.

Whats wrong with that?

I'll tell you what's wrong with that.

I got a crush on a Beatles listening, mustang driving, Blond haired, blue eyed, plaid skirt wearing, large chested, cheerleading Soc. She was beautiful. And I don't mean beautiful like, pretty face, great person, big heart, no. She was drop dead gorgeous. I feel slightly disgusted with myself, because I don't know anything about her other than her name, and how good she looks. It's so shallow. I don't even think we have anything in common. Not like Cherry Valance. I used to have a crush on her, but she made it quite clear that we wouldn't be more than friends...mutual aquatints. She didn't even talk to me in the school hall way.

She was the same kind of beautiful that Soda was. If this was movie, or some type of fictional romance novel, She'd be the smart, shy, kind rich girl, who'd fall for Sodapop, the hoodlum with the heart of gold. Except she wasn't shy or kind. She was a total bitch and dumb as a post. I wouldn't be surprised if her vagina was lined with razor sharp teeth.

Okay, maybe it wasn't a crush so much as a physical attraction. Sexual attraction.

I saw her walking out of a coffee shop with her jock boyfriend. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her until they got into a car and drove off.

Soda told me it would happen. That'd I'd start noticing girls more. He was right. Problem is I'm noticing the wrong type of girls.I figured that need to find the right type of girl. So I figured the right type of girl for me would probably be at the library.

I'm mean, why not? It's summer, I'm young. A summer romance doesn't sound to bad.

Of course by the time I got to the library, my summer romance was already leaving. At least, I hoped it would be her.

She had short light brown hair and a yellow sundress with white floral patterns on it. She was short, skinny, slightly pale and didn't have much of a figure.But I always liked girls in yellow. She also had a book in her hand. She was too far away for me to really see anything else and she was walking in the opposite direction. I followed her. Which, in hindsight, is kind of creepy. And I didn't know where she was going, ergo, I didn't know where I was going.

I ended up infront a old movie house. She went in, and I stayed outside. The sign in a window stated that they were showing a number of Avant-garde movies, then listed them as:

**Salvador Dali's Un chien andalou(1929) 16min. France**

**Maya Deren and Alexander Hammid's Meshes of the Afternoon(1943) 14min. America**

**James Sibley Watson and Melville Webber's The Fall of the House of Usher (1928) 13min. America**

**Andy Warhol's Blow Job(1964) 35min. America**

**Alejandro Jodorowsky's , Les têtes interverties (1957) 20min. France**

So, she enjoyed art as well as literature. Bonus. That meant the possibility of intelligent conversation. I really hoped she like Shakespeare.

I checked my pockets to make sure I had the buck fifty to get in. I did. I started to go in, when I heard a female voice call my name. I suppressed a groan. I knew that voice. It was Angela Shepard.

"What'ja doin?" She asked, stepping up beside me. I notice she had a milkshake, which she was sipping daintily.

"Uh...I...uh..I was going in to watch a few films..." I gestured to the theatre

"Sounds fun," She said, linking arms with me.

"Uh...oh...you wouldn't like them...they're all ava- " I figured she wouldn't exactly know what 'Avant-garde' was, so I simplified it a little for her, "experimental...silent...art films."

"I love that stuff."

She didn't. I knew it. She knew that I liked it. And, for some reason beyond my comprehension, she liked me. Now, Angela was a beautiful girl. She wore short skirts and tight tops and high heels and lots of make up. But she wasn't what I was looking for.

So she came with me into the theatre. We got seats in a middle row. I noticed the girl in the sundress. She was sitting a few rows infront of us. There were at least a dozen other people there..with the intent of watching the films. There was several couples in the back rows looking for a cool dark place to make out.

I kept looking over at the girl until the first film started. Angela made an annoying squeal sound and covered her eyes. " Oh my God, Ponyboy, what the hell is he doing?"

"What?"

"He's cutting her eye!"

"No..he's not..it just looks like it.."

"Oh..." She said, and lowered her hands.

"It's actually a cow's eye." I told her.

She squealed again and covered her eyes. I told her when the scene was over, but she didn't watch the rest of the 16 minute film.

She didn't watch much of the second one either, telling me it was disturbing.

She decided to talk to me though the whole third film, and I was starting to get annoyed.

During the Andy Warhol film, she stated, " I don't get it."

The title seemed pretty self explanatory. " Don't get what?"

"Why is the camera just on his face?"

"I'm guessing Warhol wanted to get the facial expressions and emotions of the man." Was my interpretation.

"Why? What's happening to him?"

"...someone's giving him fellatio off screen."

I looked over at her. She look alittle confused, " What's fellatio?"

Oh, I'm sure you know all about it, Angela. " Someone's going down on him, Angela."

"Oh." surprised "Oh" confused "Oh." calm " Oh!" Disgusted. " Why would someone film this?"

"I do not know. It's Andy Warhol. He doesn't need a rationalize what he does."

"Oh.." Pause, " Is this the whole movie?"

"Yes."

"Oh...ew..."

I rolled my eyes, but she doesn't see it.

During the last film, which was quite humorous at times, Angela seemed to get the humor. But she laughed only after I started to laugh.

Afterwards, when we were leaving, I noticed the girl and several other of the people from the theatre talking infront of the entrance. I slipped away from Angela and joined them. We discussed the symbolism and deeper meanings. We each gave our interpretations. I didn't get her name. No one actually introduced themselves. But I now know her eyes are a pale sort of green and she has freckles.

It was going pretty good until Angela found me. She joined the little circle, putting an arm around my waist and pushed up against me like we were a couple or something. Someone in the group asked her what she thought of the films, she said gross and boring. No, she said more like, " It was, like, totally gross, and _Boooor_-ing." Then she said, "Come on, Ponyboy, Let's go some place cool," then she dragged me away.

Talk about embarrassing.

She said it was one of the worst dates she's been on. I told her it wasn't really a date. As we walked down the street, I looked over my shoulder, and noticed the girl in the sundress cross the street and then headed off in the opposite direction, she was reading the book she had gotten from the library.

I don't usually curse. But..

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck

Fuck.

Did I mention fuck?

I looked over at Angela, who was babbling about something I didn't really care about. It was sometime around noon. And I really didn't want to spend my afternoon with Angel. We went into a store. While she was looking around and snuck out of the store and ran in the direction of the theatre. I stopped outside of it. I was fully intent on looking for the girl. But my stomach growled, so I decided that I'd get something to eat, first.

So I headed to the Dingo.

--

I don't know why I'm spreading his day out into mulitple chapters. But it's seemed to be working.

And the whole 'Teeth lining the vagina' thing, he's calling her a harpey, basicly.


	4. Afternoon Delight

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders..

Ehh...I don't really like this chapter, but it leads into the next one, so...

--

I was humming to the tune of Stagger Lee, it being the last song I heard before I left the house. And when I opened the door to enter the restaurant, I could hear it playing on the juke box...slightly less loud that the general noise of the people inside. I looked around and noticed the girl in the sundress sitting in a booth. I thought, Yes, this is my chance.

But I didn't know what to say. I couldn't just stand here looking at her like some creepy little stalker, and go over to her table and start babbling like some idiot. I needed to think this through. I decided that I'd think of what to say outside. That way, if I think to long, I can still catch her on the way out. So I start backing out of the door way. But apparently I can't used my head..while using my head. I bumped into someone. I turn around and lo and behold, there's Tim Shepard.

"Sorry, Tim." I said, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Ponyboy, just the Curtis I wanted to see."

Really? That was kind of frightening.

" I wanna talk to you about a couple'a things, "He led me back into the Dingo, and I glanced over at the girl, but her head was down, probably reading. He went to a booth near the back. There were people there already, but Tim fixed that, no problem.

" I was talking to Darrel earlier. You know, when I called, I thought I had the full story. But after I got of the phone, Curly got up. Now, I know you two are pals, so I thought he'd be interested in knowing what happened."

I nodded, he continued, " He told me he already knew. Said that he help you out last night."

"...Yeah." It was a confirmation. I'm not too sure all of what Curly told him, but I was sure that alot of it was probably bull shit.

"I ran into your brother on his way to work...asked him how you handled yourself last night..."

Shit. " Yeah?"

"Yeah. Said you amscaryed. Didn't mention Curly."

"Well, I didn't want to get Curly into trouble."

Tim nodded. " He described it as a battle or epic proportion."

I snorted.

Tim chucked. It was creepy when he laughed in any way, shape or form. There was never any humor in it. " I take it Curly's full of shit?"

"No way in hell we had a chance of winning, Tim. A 3 to 1 ratio...and I mean, Curly and I...we aren't that big...or strong, for that matter. We're good, but we aren't that good." Now, Tim was a helluva lot smarter than his younger siblings. And usually can tell when someone's lying. Like I was just now.

But, to my surprise, he nodded, " Smart. I'm guessing it was your idea?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Figures. Curly's gotta learn to pick his battles. But you...you got a good head on your shoulders ."

High praise from Tim Shepard.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about, Tim?" God, I hoped so.

"Naw. Guess who I ran into not 10 minutes ago?" He asked.

Oh, damn. " Angela?"

"See? I knew you were smart. Wanna take a guess at what we talked about?"

"...not really."

He laughed again. " She said you took her on a date..."

"I wasn't really a date...I didn't even ask her to..."

"...said something about porn..."

"..it was not porn, it was Andy..."

"Warhol. I figured."

He figured?! What the hell was that supposed to mean? Does Tim Shepard, one of the most infamous and feared hoods in Tulsa, enjoy the works of Andy Warhol? And if he did, why admit it ( in some form, anyway) to me? Because I wouldn't repeat it.

"I like you, Little Curtis, I do, but I just don't think you're Ange's type."

I was thinking the exact same thing.

"It's just that, well, I'll be honest.. you're a Mutant."

...

...

...

...

...what?

"And I mean it in the nicest possible way."

Sure.

"You read alot. You watch alotta movies. You enjoy museums. You like art, and art films...You're highly agile and articulate for a kid your age."

And that's...bad?

"It's not normal, Ponyboy.You are not normal. And when Angela does find a guy, I want him to be...normal. You understand?"

"Yeah, Tim. No problem."

"Good kid."

He got up , " I'll see ya 'round, kid."

"Bye, Tim."

He left, and I just sat in the booth for a few minutes.

When I slid out of the booth I looked around. The girl was gone.

Damn.

Suddenly, I wasn't hungry any more. I left.

I wasn't a block away when Two-Bit pulled up in the deathtrap he called his car.

We did a lot of nothing for a while before heading back to my place.

I started supper. Two-Bit helped alittle bit. But Sodapop took over the cooking when he came home from work. We played poker at the table until Darry came home.

"You staying for supper, Two-Bit?" Darry asked.

"Naw, man. I gotta babysit." Two-Bit said, standing up from the table, " I'll see ya's later, guys." And he made his exit.

During supper, I told my brothers about what happened to me today, leaving out a few bits of the mainly one sided conversation with Tim Shepard.

Soda was the first to offer advice, saying he should come with him and Steve to a party they were going to tonight.

Darry said I could go if I wanted. As long as I was home by 12.

I usually don't like tagging along with Soda and Steve. But it's not like I have to followed them around at the party, right?

"Sure...sounds good."

--

This chapter seems to lack references to other works. Weird.


	5. Girlchild in the Dark

Disclaimers: I do not own the Outsiders. Anything else you recognize, see note at end of chapter.

* * *

I had a strong foreboding feeling as we drove off to the party. A thick fog had rolled in and it started to rain. I could thunder rumbling above the clouds as well pulled in front of a decent looking house on neutral territory.

I separated from Soda and Steve the moment we got to the party. I know that at some point I was giving a bottle of beer, but about an hour later, only one third of the bottle was empty. Eventually I ran into the girl I helped the other night. She wanted to talk to me in private, so we went to an empty bedroom upstairs.

We sat on the edge of the bed. She thanked me, and gave me a hug. It was okay. But then she kissed me. And I don't mean a little peck on the cheek. It was long, and hard. On the mouth. I shoved her off of me, and asked her what the hell she was doing. She seemed offended that I stopped her and she left. I sat there, slightly dazed for a moment, when another couple came into the room. They asked me if I was waiting for someone, I said no and went back down stairs.

I walked into the living room, where the majority of the guests were dancing. In the crowd, I noticed the girl in the sundress…only she was no longer wearing the sundress.

She was wearing a purple skirt, a few inches longer than most at the party, but with a slightly tighter fit. She seemed to have some sequins in a pattern, because I could see light reflecting off of it, and a silver, short sleeve blouse. Bangles on her wrists, I could see as she danced to a song I've never head before. She seemed taller than before. Then I noticed she was wearing platform high heel go-go boot, also silver.

I made my way over, but was stopped by Soda and Steve. They were leaving. It wasn't quite the party they had expected. Soda asked me if I was going, I told them no. I must have sounded …off. They asked me if something happened, so I told them what happened. Steve snorted and said, "Oh yeah, big surprise. Holden doesn't wanna slept with Sunny."

It took a few minutes for me to realize that Steve had just made a literary reference. Of course, those two were gone by the time I did realize it.

The song that was playing now was slower, kind of dreary. Almost hypnotic. I walked up to the girl. I notice she was wearing make up now. She had on black eyeliner and two colors of eye shadow on both lids. I thought that was odd. Purple and pink. Popular colors with girls around here, but I never saw a girl around here with two colors. Her lipstick was red, nothing odd there, I thought. But the blush, pink, again, not uncommon, but she had glitter on her cheeks. No way was this girl from Tulsa. Or Oklahoma…or the south west.

By the time I was next to her, there were people all around us, moving slowing to the song. I wasn't too sure what to say to her. I took in her appearance as a whole,"Do you jive?" I asked, almost yelling over the volume of the music

She looked at me, smiled, and nodded her head. We danced together for a few songs. But at some point, the power went out. With no more loud music, and no more lights, I noticed the lightening outside, and thunder rumbling menacingly in the background.

People started to leave. Me and the girl left, hand in hand. We started walking, the rain was only a light drizzle.

"Isn't your girlfriend gunna be pissed if she sees you with me?" She asked.

"Girlfriend? Oh, what, Angela? Oh, no…well…okay…she might get a little jealous, but she ain't my girlfriend." I told her.

"Really?" She seemed surprised by that. " Cause she seemed so…"

"Clingy? Possessive?"

"Stupid?"

I chuckled. " Yeah, that too."

She laughed. "You got a name?"

"Yeah."

There was a silence. She laughed again, "Well, what is?"

"What's yours?"

"Hey, I asked you first."

"I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours."

"Yeah...but mine's stupid."

"I won't laugh. Promise."

"Promise?"

I nodded.

"Gypsy Rose."

I laughed. She hit me in the arm.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"You're named after a stripper!" I laughed

"She's not a stripper! She's…a burlesque…entertainer…and an actress…and…and...and," She hit me again, " and you said you wouldn't laugh."

"I'm sorry." I stopped laughing, but didn't stop smiling, " I'm Ponyboy."

"Oh, you're just sayin' that."

"No. Really. I even got a brother named Sodapop."

"Yeah?...Got any other brothers?"'

"Uh huh. My oldest brother, Darry." I told her. " You got any siblings?"

"Yeah, two step brothers. Oscar and Sebastian. Both older."

"Oh, I get it. Oscar, as in Wilde…and Sebastian as in Melmoth"

"Smart boy."

We eventually stopped at her house, which was in neutral territory, as well. There was that awkward silence that always comes when dropping a girl off at her house for the first time.

"So…"

"Yeah…"

Another silence.

"I'd like to take you out sometimes…" I told her.

She smiled, "I'd like that."

"Tomorrow? To the drive in?"

"Sounds good."

"Eight o'clock?"

She smiled again, "Perfect." She gave me a small kiss on the cheek, then went into her house.

By the time I got home, I was soaked. Candles were places all over the living room and kitchen. Steve and Soda were playing cards at the coffee table. Darry was laying on the couch.

"Hey, Pony."

"Hey."

"So how was it?" Darry asked me, "Good, right?"

"Yeah. How'dja know?"

"You got lipstick on your cheek."

I started to rub it off.

"Sunny?" Steve questioned.

"Naw."

"She cute?"

"Yeah." I picked up one of the candles and went to the room Soda and I shared.

She liked art. And movies. She reads for fun. She's not like the other kids in Tulsa.

She's a mutant.

Just like me.

* * *

Uh…the Holden/Sunny comment is about Catcher in the Rye. If you haven't read it yet, do it now.

The slow, dreary and hypnotic song Pony referred to was 'Venus In Furs' By the Velvet Underground, from the 1967 album The Velvet Underground and Nico.

'Do you jive?' Is supposedly the first thing David Bowie said to his wife. It was also used in Velvet Goldmine, as the first thing Brian says to Mandy.

Gypsy Rose was named after Gypsy Rose Lee. Oscar Wilde's pseudonym after he was released from prison was Sebastian Melmoth.

Gypsy Rose is a London Mod, not born in London, but moved from New York when she was 8 after her mother married her step father, who was in fact, from London. I can't really go into her background that much in the story it self because it's all Pony's point of view.

Anyone who picked up on this while reading the story is my kind of people. Anyone who didn't, well, the more you know ;)

Oh! And I now have Microsoft Word. Actual borders come up when I do my usual --. That doesn't really have anything to do with the story, but I just think that is pretty damn cool!


	6. Somebody to Love

Disclaimer : I do not own the Outsiders, or anything else you recognize.

* * *

I was kind of getting excited. Only kind of. It was difficult to get really excited because my brothers, and Steve and Two-Bit, thought it would be fun to constantly tease me.

The whole 'Pony's got a Da-ate!' thing gets old real fast.

But since I was going on a date, my first real date, I decided to dress up for the occasion…kinda.

I borrowed a dark pair of blue jeans from Soda. And a clean white tee shirt, which is usually hard to come by in our house.

I had greased my back. I would love to say that I shaved, but I have yet to grow facial hair.

I asked the guys how I looked. Big mistake. I got a lot of 'awes' and 'how cute'. Christ, they're annoying.

I left in a hurry.

Any excitement I felt leaving the house was slowly turning into terror. I started thinking, what if she doesn't answer the door, and I had to sit with her father and get a deeply discouraging talk? Or what if I screw up majorly on the date, and she never wanted to see me again?

Other negative thoughts went through my head as I went up the step to her front door. I knocked on the door. No one answered right away. I straightened my shoulders. I almost knocked again, but someone answered the door.

He looked Soda's age. And height. He had light blonde hair, which was slicked down and parted on the right. His eyes were dark brown, and he had sharp facial features, highlighted with faint amounts of pink blush, pink lipstick, pink eye shadow, and black eyeliner….or black mascara, I'm proud to say I can't tell the difference. For some reason he had on a suit, dark purple with grey stripes, with a pale blue dress shirt. We just kind of stared at each other. Neither of us saying anything.

"Oh…" Was all he said. He turned around and headed to the staircase behind him, and yelled, " Rose! You're date is here!"

I noticed he had an English accent.

I followed him into the living room, and, I noticed one a boy identical to the one who opened the door, only his shirt was a pale green and his hair was parted on the left.

I never seen a set of twins in real life, before.

I sat down on a plush chair, and he sat down on the couch by his brother. They both looked at me for a moment. In unison, which was very disbursing to me, they reached into an inside pocket of their blazer, One of them, the one with the blue shirt, pulled out a silver cigarette case, while the other took out a zippo.

They both took a long, slim cigarette out of the case and placed them loosely in their lips. After they lit up, the one in the blue shirt looked at me and held out the case, "Fag?"

It took a moment for me to realize he wasn't insulting me, but offering me a smoke.

I took one, said thanks. The one in green offered to light it, but I took out my own lighter. I cut back on smoking, but I still had one now and again. When I was nervous. Like now.

By the time I finished my smoke, Rose came down stairs.

Her hair was styled very much like her step brother in the green shirt. She also wore what looked like a business type skirt and blazer the same color as the suits her step brothers were wearing. Her shoes were brown plat form high heels that strapped around her ankle. Her make up was also like that the twins had, only more noticeable. Which is okay. It's still less than most girls wear.

". Gimme a sec." She went into the closet in the hall, only to come out a second later, "Oscar, where's my purse?"

"Which one?"

I now knew the one with the part on the right was Oscar. And, by process of elimination, the other one was Sebastian.

"Uh…black sequins and silver chain strap."

"Kitchen."

I watched her walk toward the kitchen and come back her purse. "Okay, I'm ready." She said goodbye to her brothers and we left.

We walked in silence for a moment, when she asked, "So, what are we seeing?"

"Torn Curtain."

"Smashing. I love Hitchcock."

We talked about Hitchcock's other films all the way there. I almost headed around back, to the whole in the fence. But since it was a date, I thought I'd make a better impression by paying the quarter to get in.

We didn't get to watch too much of the movie. Less than an hour into the movie, a gun shot went off somewhere near the entrance. People scattered, and I took Rose around back, to the hole in the fence. Several people were already crawling through it, wanted to get away before the cops show.

I went first, then held up the broken part of the fence, so she wouldn't have to get as low to ground, and not get her clothes as dirty as I just did.

Reason number 12 as to why there are never any clean white tee shirts in my house.

When she stood back up, she started brushing the dirt off of her clothes. I knew the cops were heading over here, so I grabbed her hand and pulled her away. She ran okay, considering the kind of shoes she was wearing.

We stopped in front of a convenience store. Actually, I stopped. Rose nearly ran into me. Leaning against the wall was the make-up wearing twins, smoking a cigarette. In between them, was delinquent extraordinaire, Two-Bit, in the same pose as the twins. We didn't stay and talk. We just exchanged pleasantries and kept going.

We went back to her house. She said we'd be there alone. Who could pass up an opportunity like that?

We headed right upstairs. The first think I noticed about her room was the large black mass in the middle of her bed. It was a Great Dane. He raised his head and just kind of looked at Rose and I for a moment, waged it tail for a brief moment, and then put its head back down.

"Marc Antony!" Rose said. She went over to the bed, and gave the large dog a little shove, "get off my bed."

The dog raised his head and looked at her, but didn't move. She tugged at his collar and still didn't budge. She kept trying. Eventually the dog left. But I think it was because the dog was annoyed by her pushing.

We made out for a while. It was real cool. We both had taken our shirts off, but we didn't get too much further. Afterwards, she put on a record. I forget the name of the band, but the album was called Surrealistic Pillow, which I thought was a bit strange. We just lay on the bed and listened to the music. At some point we had fallen asleep.

When I woke up, the music had stopped and the alarm clock by her bed said 10:47. The ticking seemed louder than before. I got good like at the room, by this time. Each wall was a different color, one pale blue, one dark purple, one pink and one orange. The walls were pretty bare, but there were several boxes under a desk with 'ROSE'S ROOM' written on the side. They must have just moved recently.

I got up and picked my shirt up off of the ground. I put it on, and then walked over to the desk. I took a pen, and a piece of paper, and wrote a small note, basically asking her to meet me tomorrow morning…and wear something more…casual. I left the note on her night stand, and quietly left the room, closing the door behind me.

I was about to go down the staircase, when I heard two voices down stairs. One of which was British…probably Rose's step-father. I saw two shadows moving down the hall, towards the bottom of the staircase.

William Hazlitt once said 'First impressions are often the truest.' And if that's true, and he catches me sneaking out of his daughters' bedroom at 11 at night…well…you don't have to be a genius to know it won't end well.

I ducked into the nearest open door and closed it. I pressed my ear against the wood. The other voice was male, I noticed, and it sounded familiar. I couldn't really make out too many words. I heard footsteps going down the hall, and a dog growling. I figured Marc Antony must have been kicked out of his room. The growling was getting louder and it seemed closer. Too close. I glanced over my shoulder. There were two beds, and on the beds, were rather large German Shepards. The both of them were growling at me, and bearing their teeth. The second I heard the door in the hall close, I opened the door, and closed it as fast as I could. The dogs were now barking and scratching at the door. I didn't even bother using the stairs. I slid down the banister, almost falling on Marc Antony who was lying in the hall. I flung open the door and barreled outside, slamming the door behind me.

I didn't stop running until I was home.

Darry asked me why I was out of breath.

I told him I was almost eaten by a couple of German Shepards. He just laughed. I just wanted to go to bed.

I was mildly surprised that Soda was already asleep. I slid into the bed beside him and went to sleep.

* * *

Uh…nothing really to explain I don't think….


	7. Sphinx

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders or any books/bands/movies mentioned in this chapter.

* * *

I had another nightmare. It was around 5:30 and I couldn't get back to sleep.

I started to clean the house. I tidied up me and Soda's bedroom, Soda's old room, the bathroom, had breakfast, cleaned the kitchen, went for a run, came home, got a shower, made breakfast for Darry and Soda, and then started to clean the living room.

I hadn't noticed anyone else was up right away. I was wiping off the coffee table when I did. They were both just staring at me. Darry had a cup of coffee, and Soda was looking up from the newspaper.

"Are you okay, Pone?" Darry asked me.

"Yeah, Dar. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, for one, the house is damn near spotless, and two, you're been cleanin' that same spot for the last five minutes." Soda pointed that out too me.

"Oh…"

I stood up, and Darry came over and put his hand on my forehead.

"You don't feel warm…" He told me. I told him I wasn't sick, just that I couldn't sleep. He let the topic drop. I never remembered anything from the nightmares, so there was nothing really to talk about.

After Sodapop and Darry left for work, I read for a bit, watched a little T.V. By 9:30 I was very bored, and wasn't due to meet up with Rose for another hour.

Not able to sit around the house any longer, I got up and walked to her house.

Once I knocked, I kept thinking, ' Right part- Oscar, Left part – Sebastian' But of course once the door is opened, one of the twins is on the other side, hair, not slicked back, not in any particular style, and was parted in the middle.

"Hi…" I had no idea which one he was, so I didn't bother making a more personal greeting. I could see the German Shepards in the hall behind him, growling.

"Hullo…"

"…Is…Rose awake?"

"Yes."

Damn it. I really didn't like it when there was one of those long silences.

"…Can I go see her?"

"Well, I suppose so…" He took a few steps back and let me into the house. He pointed to the staircase, "third door on the left."

I knew that already, but just nodded and mumbled thanks.

Her door was closed, and I was pretty sure I could hear Little Richard playing on her record player. I went in without knocking. She didn't seem to notice the door open and close.

She was standing in front of a vanity (which I hadn't seen in the room last night, so I figured it was brought up from…somewhere else, along with a few more boxes, a chest of drawers and a bookcase). She was only wearing her bra and panties, which were yellow. She was holding various items of clothing to her body, seeing what looks good with what, her body moving ever so slightly to the music.

I started to say something. She let out this startled kind of squeak that I only ever heard a girl make, and attempted to cover her self with the clothes she had in her hands. I laughed and she pouted, saying that it wasn't funny. I disagreed with her, but stopped laughing.

"You're early," She stated. I told her I couldn't sleep and how I spent my morning. I then told her about the night before when I was almost ripped apart by the German Shepards. Now apparently it was her turn to laugh, telling me that Bear and Bruno were harmless, and that their bark was worse than their bite. Well, there bark was pretty damn bad.

She told me that she wouldn't be able to stay out too long, because she had to unpack most of her belongings. I told her that we could stay in and I would help her. She gave me a hug. I enjoyed that. Since we weren't going out, she just put on a pair of gym shorts and a tee-shirt.

The first box we emptied was filled with books. Collections of the works of Poe, Lovecraft and Wilde. _The Devil's Dictionary_, and only a handful other titles and authors I recognized. She also had shit load of those pulp fiction novels, gothic novels and Penny Dreadfuls. In box number two, which was also filled with book, I knew more of the authors. Chaucer, Burgess, Salinger, Hemingway, Dostoevsky, Austin, Orwell, Twain and Shakespeare. There was also books on the Celts, and the Romans, and the Anglo-Saxons, the Crusades, and Ancient worlds. Several books on art, and several others in a different language( she said they were in Gaelic). She had packed them in alphabetical order. All except for one. At the bottom of the box was _Lady Chatterley's Lover._ I looked over at her, grinning. She noticed me holding the book and began to blush. She took the book and put it on the shelf. She avoided any discussion on the book by going and opening up another box.

"What goes on the rest of these shelves?" I asked. All of her books filled just more than half of the bookcase.

"Oh, this and that." She started to pull things out of the box, most of which was wrapped in news paper. She sat down beside the box and started to un-wrap the items, which I assumed were breakable. I sat down beside her and helped.

They were pretty little things. Two ivory elephant, several small jade sculptures, a Venus figurine (which I am assuming is a replica), a shrunken head, something that I think is a voodoo doll (never seeing one before, I couldn't really be sure. I wasn't sure why it was wrapped in newspaper either) and a large number of porcelain and china figurines in different national garb, several of which looked antique.

"Where did you get all these?" I asked her, picking up a few and getting up to place them on the shelves. She was doing the same.

"Well…my dad's job lets him go all over the world." She told me, "He always picks me up things." I found it a little odd that she called her step-father dad. The people I know with step parents never call them mom or dad. Usually just their first names.

After we set up the figurines, she opened another box. It was filled with clothes. As she put them into the drawers, I opened another box. There were several rolled up posters, and stuffed animals. As I took them out, I noticed a porcelain doll in a faded, extravagant dress, tiny fake pearls around its neck, and no head. I looked through the rest of the box, but there were only some pictures in frames and postcards.

"This doll doesn't have a head," I told her.

She looked over at me, "Oh, yeah. I know."

"Well, where is it?"

"I dunno. I got it like that."

"What?"

"Yeah. My dad got it for me."

I asked her why her dad would give her an old, broken doll. Why not just get you a new one?

She said it was from her real dad, before her parents got a divorce, and they were still living in 'The Kitchen'. Sometime between buying the doll and giving it to her, the head came off. He had told her that it was supposed to be like that, because it was Marie Antoinette. She said that since she had only been six at the time, she didn't know who Marie Antoinette was, so her father spent the rest of the night telling her about the French Revolution.

I thought that was cute. She took the doll and put it on the bed, by her pillows.

I pulled out a frame from the box. "Who're these guys?" I asked. The picture had 12 men and one woman standing together. They all were wearing jeans and tee shirts. Big and strong. Looking closely I could see outlines of tattoos and possible scars. Probably all between fifteen and twenty five, except for the man and woman in the middle, who looked much older.

She stepped next to me and looked at the picture, "Oh. Well, there's Thàmhais and Teàrlach." She said, pointing to two men on the left side of the picture, " They're twins." She added, "Ríordanand Muireadhach," She pointed to another two, " Mael, Lonàn, Brolach…my father. Um…Aedàn, Liam, Caderyn…Críostóir. And they," she pointed to the older two in the middle, "are Grampa Teague, and Granny Bríghe." They had the strangest names I've ever heard.

"That was taken in Tipperary, before my Dad came to New York."

"Tipperary?"

"Uh-huh."

I nodded a little and we went back to unpacking. We took a break around noon. It was kind of awkward. Her step father was there, and kept looking over at me. I think he knows it was me who left her last night…not like I was overly quiet about it. And the dogs seemed friendly…after Rose got them to stop growling and sit down. I actually petted the beasts.

Marc Antony followed us as we went back upstairs. We traded stories as we worked, like she told me about the time she went to Canterbury two years ago, and I told her about the first time I went to the zoo. I told her about the time I went hunting and she told me about the time she went to see Hadrian's Wall.

Her life seemed to be a bit more exiting that mine. But I bet she's never been on the lam before…

Shit. That was a depressing thought.

I got quiet, and must have looked upset because she asked me if I was okay. She looked concerned. I smiled and said I was fine. She let it drop.

The last thing we did was hang up the posters.

There was a 'Duck Soup' movie poster with the 4 Marx Brothers, a 'Rebel Without a Cause' movie poster with James Dean, a 'Count of Monte Cristo' movie poster, a Velvet Underground poster, and a Little Richard poster.

Afterwards, we lay down on the bed for a little while, sharing it with the Great Dane. We listen to an album by some band called 'The Who'. We talked about little things for a while.

Eventually there was a knock on the door." Supper will be ready soon." It was her fathers voice.

Rose sat up and looked over at me. She asked me if I wanted to stay for supper. I said that Darry was expecting me home. I asked her if she like to come to my place for supper.

She smiled, then went up and opened the door and told her dad she was going to me place. She came back into her room and went over to her closet.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

"Changing."

"Why?"

"Why? I can't go out looking like this!"

So I sat on the bed while she got changed, put on her make up and did her hair. I wanted to ask her why she couldn't go out like that. Plenty of other girls did...occasionally…in the summer.

I can never figure out why woman take so long. They seemed to get dressed up for the most casual of occasions, and spent a lot of time on make up which they don't really need to wear. They act differently in private than they do in public…

And, like always, Oscar Wilde is right. Women are meant to be loved, no understood.

* * *

Poe, as in Edgar Allen.

Lovecraft, as in H.P

Wilde, as in Oscar

Chaucer, as in Geoffrey

Burgess, as in Anthony

Salinger, as in J.D

Hemingway, as in Earnest

Dostoevsky, as in Fyodor

Austin, as in Jane

Orwell, as in George

Twain, as in Mark

Shakespeare, as in William.

_The Devil's Dictionary_ by Ambrose Bierce . The book skillfully lampoons cant and political double talk by cleverly redefining the words. Examples

**BEARD**, n. The hair that is commonly cut off by those who justly execrate the absurd Chinese custom of shaving the head.

**CONSULT**, v.i. To seek another's disapproval of a course already decided on.

**TRUTHFUL**, adj. Dumb and illiterate.

**TURKEY**, n. A large bird whose flesh when eaten on certain religious anniversaries has the peculiar property of attesting piety and gratitude. Incidentally, it is pretty good eating.

As you can see, it is quite funny.

I think it was '59 in the U.S and '60 in the UK when they had this big court case so that they could make prints _Lady Chatterley's Lover(1928)_. They had problems with something called the Obscene Publications Act ( I'm not too sure about these American acts.) It was the first serious work of English literature that used the words fuck and cunt.

Tipperary is in Ireland, and all the names of Rose's uncles, her dad and grandparents are Gaelic. Pronunciations are as follows

Thàmhais - TAW vish

Teàrlach - CHAIR lach

Ríordan** - **REER den

Muireadhach- MYOOR dahk

Mael sounds like it's spelled.

Lonàn sounds like it's spelled

Brolach not entirely sure how it is pronounced, which is why he will mostly be refeered to as either 'Dad' or 'Brolly'

Aedàn - EE dahn

Liam - LEE um

Caderyn - kad ER in

Críostóir - kris ter

Teague - teeg

Bríghe. - BREE

um...I think that is all the explaning I need for this chapter...


	8. When the Fit hits the Shan

Disclaimer: I do now own the Outsiders.

I couldn't believe the outfit she picked.

It had to be the shortest mini skirt I have ever seen. Briefly, I wondered about the longer skirts I had seen her wear on the date and at the party a few days earlier. I got easily sidetracked, though. For two simple reasons. One, the skirt was yellow, and two…she had nice legs. I'm a little ashamed to say that I was checking her out when she bent over to put on her white go-go boots, which had a high heel. She had tucked in a white silk blouse, which I wanted to touch, but I thought that would seem strange, so I didn't.

I must have been staring for a while because the next thing I knew, her make up was done, as was her hair.

We headed down stairs, and she said good-bye to her father. I thought he was going to tell her to go and get changed, but he just said something like, 'ok, honey, have fun' and gave me a look that said 'try anything and I will kill you.'

The walk was nice. We held hands and talked about the Marx brothers. Harpo is her favorite. Groucho was mine. We did cheesy jokes and bad impressions. It was fun. We laughed a lot.

A car horn from behind us made me reach for my razor. I looked over my shoulder. I didn't recognize the car, but I did recognize the grinning greaser in the driver's seat.

Curly Shepard.

He pulled up beside us, rolling down his window, "You two wanna lift?"

He was checking out Rose. He had the same kind of look in his eye like his older brother did when he found a new conquest. I say kind of because if it was Tim, any man around the girl would be out of there before you could say 'amscray'.

And at the same time, I got this strange feeling in my gut, and I felt like punching the stupid grin off of Curly's face.

Despite this feeling, I said sure.

I pushed the front seat forward and held the seatbelt out of the way for Rose to climb into the back. I readjusted the seat and got in.

I told him where we were going, and he drove off.

I noticed Curly kept glancing up into his rearview mirror, looking at Rose sitting timidly in the back seat.

"Didn't you have a four-door car a few days ago?" I asked him, hoping to distract him from my girlfriend.

"…naw, man. This is the car I had."

I thought for a moment, " Uh…no…you had a dark blue four door Ford…"

"What's your point, Ponyboy?"

"My point, Curly, is that this is a cheery red two door Supreme."

"Inconsequential details, Pony." He told me.

That seemed like a real big word for Curly to use. Everyone seems to be hiding hidden intelligence. He must pick these things up from Tim.

"I'd hardly call these details 'inconsequential'. This is a stolen car, isn't it?"

"Irrelevant, Pony…"

"How the fuck is it irrelevant, Curly? You're driving a stolen car, you don't have a license, and you are on PROBATION –"

"Quit being so fuckin' tedious, Ponyboy."

"Tedious? Are you that fucking stupid, Curly?"

"Don't call me fuckin' stupid, Pony…"

We started yelling at each other. There was a lot of cursing. Something which I usually tend to avoid doing.

When he pulled up at the front of my house, I opened the door, slid out, and was about to slam the door, when I remembered Rose was in the back seat.

She looked mildly frightened.

I pushed the seat forward and helped her out.

Then I slammed the car door. Curly drove off

Rose was walking a bit uneasy. Probably her heels on the cracked and uneven pavement. I apologized. Told her how Curly tends to bring out the worst in me.

We held hands as we went into the house.

Elvis was playing on the radio. Sodapop was setting the table. Darry came in and out of view.

Soda must have heard the storm door close, because he looked up, smiling, "Hey Pone…" His smile got slightly bigger when he noticed Rose, "Who's your friend?" Of course, Darry heard Soda ask that, and looked out at us, too.

The dinner went…fairly well. I don't think Rose had been expecting blue potatoes. Actually, I don't think anyone outside of the gang would ever expect potatoes of any other color then the off white hue they usually are.

A few polite questions. Hi. How are ya? Where ya from? Generic, albeit pleasant small talk. There was a few moments of uncomfortable silences. I could tell that my brothers wanted to ask Rose a few questions, and vice versa, but probably felt it would inappropriate to ask.

She helped with the dishes. More pleasantries. Smile.

Steve stopped by. Apparently he and Soda were going out tonight. They offered Rose and me a ride back to her house, but I'd have to walk back home. That was fine with me.

The drive would have been awkwardly silent if Elvis hadn't been blaring on the radio…with Soda and Steve singing along.

In what seemed like a longer time that it really was, we were dropped off at the end of her driveway.

I watched the car as it sped off. Rose tugged my arm gently. I turned to her and smiled. We kissed for a few minutes, then she went into the house.

I stuck my hands into my pockets and headed back home. It was a quiet twilight. Mackerel scaled red sky. Cool breeze. It seemed to be a perfect evening. Of course, it would have been.

I wasn't even three blocks away from Rose's house when a cherry red supreme pulled up beside me. I sighed, and walked around to the other side, sliding into the passenger seat. He sped off. We were two blocks down the before I had a chance to put my seat belt on.

I looked over at Curly. He was gripping the wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. He was pale and kind of shaky.

"Curly…what's wrong?"

He gave a nervous chuckle. "W-wrong? What makes you think anything's wrong?"

That was a bad sign, "Curly, man, you're shaking…you're pale…er than usual…"

"Okay…maybe there is something wrong…"

I rolled my eyes, and looked at the scenery speeding past the window. Where were going? I wondered, then looked back at Curly. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing…well, nothing important, I don't think…I was kinda' hopin' you could help me out…."

"Of course, Man. Just…tell me what's wrong."

He was silent for a moment. I looked over at him. He was chewing nervously on his bottom lip.

"Curly…" I asked quietly, "What's - -"

"I killed somebody."

There was a ringing silence in the car. Oxy-moronic, I know, but, damn if it isn't true.

"Curly, stop the car…"

"Ponyboy…"

"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!"

He did.

I think he was expecting me to say something else. I didn't. Not at first.

"Ponyboy?..."

"You killed somebody." I stated.

"Yeah..."

"You."

"…Yeah…"

"You. Curly Shepard…you killed somebody."

"Yeah."

I went silent again. Then I smacked him in the head. Twice. He hit me back. It went back and forth like that for several minutes. It probably would have turned into an actual fight, but we both still had our seatbelts on, limiting our mobility. When we stopped, there was another silence.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Curly, how the fuck do you think I can help you?"

"I don't fucking know, Pone. I mean, Christ, you're the smart one, here. Please, man. You gotta help me out…"

I started to think. How the hell could I help him out? "Okay…uh…Who…who didja kill?"

"uh…" He reached over to the glove box and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, "Jason Walsh. 24."

"Gah, you killed him, then stole his wallet?" I asked, taking the wallet from his hands. I looked through it. Drivers license. A few credit cards. I noticed with a mild repulsion at the fact that he didn't have a library card. I recognized the photo on the license. One of the would-be rapists from a few nights previous. He also had over two thousand dollars in cash. This seemed like a lot of money for a greasy gang-banger.

"Where'd it happen?"

"Ya know that shitty old barn just out side of town?"

"Yeah." I remember reading something about it in the paper. After nearly a decade of uselessness they finally decided to tear it down and build something else. I forget what, but it had something to do with a well that was behind it.

"There."

"Inside or outside?"

"Inside…why?"

"Curly…I have a plan." A half-assed plan, but still, a plan none the less. "How much blood?"

"Not a lot when I left…but…"

"I know…"

I told him to head to the nearest department store. I listed off things we'd need to buy. Mop and bucket, paper towels, rubber gloves, bleach, garbage bags, duct tape. Together all of these things may have seemed suspicious by a nosy and overly imaginative clerk. That's why I told Curly to get the mop bucket, gloves and bleach, while I got the paper towels, garbage bag and duct tape. I also suggested buying other small things. A coke, deck of cards, lighter, gum. Just to make it seem more natural. I said we should go in at different times, a few minutes apart, at least. Everything to be paid in full by our dear friend Mr. Walsh

While he drove, I pulled out a hundred dollars from the wallet, all in small bills. I gave fifty to Curly, and put fifty into my own pocket.

Curly went into the store first. He picked up what I told him too, plus some hair grease, a comb, pack of smokes, cheep lighter, match book, a Pepsi, gum, a chocolate bar and cool pair of sunglasses. I got what I had come for, plus a sketch pad and some pencil crayons, deck of cards, some hair grease and comb, and the same pair of sunglasses as Curly. That was all that I was going to get, but as I waited in line, I noticed a few racks of books and road maps. I looked through the books and picked on called Confessions of an English Opium Eater. I heard about it before. That looked pretty good. But then something else caught my eye and my half assed plan suddenly became a full blown genius plan.

Just as I put my things onto the counter, I grabbed a Louisiana road map.

After I paid, I hurried to the car. Curly seemed impatient.

"What the hell took you so long?" He asked.

"Inspiration, Curly, that's what. Where are the nearest pay phones?"

He gave me an odd look, but drove off to the nearest set of pay phones. They were outside of some gas station. Curly followed me out of the car, probably curious.

I picked up the phone and fed it a quarter. I dialed my number and waiting.

"Hey Darry."

"Hey, Pony." He sounded tired, which was good for me.

"Listen, Me and Curly ran into some friend from school…"

"Yeah?..."

"And see, they were planning on going camping out in the country…they have a space booked at a real camp site and everything…"

"So?"

"So Curt and Rodney were supposed to go with them, but cancelled at the last minute, and they were wondering if we could fill in, since they have enough for five people, and two ditched…"

"Ponyboy, isn't it a bit late for them to be heading out now?"

"That's why they have to leave right now, Darry."

"Now? But you would have to pack…"

"Naw, we're at Curly's. He's gunna lend me something to wear for tomorrow."

"Did Tim say that Curly could go?"

"Well, Tim ain't here right now…"

He sighed heavily, " I dunno, Pone….I just don't think.."

"Come on, Dare. I mean, they need at least one person there to be responsible, ya know? To keep 'em out of trouble…I mean normally it would be Curt, but I'm the only other level headed person they can find on such short notice…" There was a silence on the other end…or there would have been if the radio wasn't so loud. I bit my lip.

"Is there going to be any drinking?"

"No."

"Any drugs?"

"No."

"Girls?"

"No…and even if there was, I wouldn't be doing anything with or to them. I got a girlfriend now, remember?"

"Alright…" He said, but then added in a stronger voice, "Call me in the morning, ya hear?"

"No problem, Dare."

"Don't do anything stupid."

"I know, Darry"

"Stay out of trouble."

"I will, Darry."

"You better." He sighed. I assumed he was rolling his eyes. "Goodnight Ponyboy."

"Night, Darry…Oh, and tell Soda I said good night…and tell Tim where Curly is, if he asked."

"Alright. Have fun…and be CAREFUL." He hung up the phone.

"Wow." Curly said, shaking his head slightly, "I almost believed you myself, Pony. But why a camping trip?"

"This is going to take a while, Curly. We need as much time as we can get. This gives us at the very least, twenty four hours."

He nodded, then asked, "Why'dja ask Darry to tell Tim? Why could I just call him?"

"Because you're a terrible liar. He'd never believe you."

"And how come Darry believes you?"

"Because I don't do stupid shit on a daily basis. Now let's go."

"Wait a minute."

I stopped and turned to face Curly.

"Who the fuck is Curt and Rodney?" He asked me.

I shrugged my shoulders. They had been the first names to pop into my head.

With Curly behind the wheel, it took less than five minutes to get to the barn.

I told Curly to go around to the back and fill the bucket with well water. I carried everything else inside.

There was less blood than I thought. The bullet hit right between the eyes. I was mildly impressed by the aim. There was a gun by the body, maybe seven feet from the right hand. I picked it up and checked the chamber. Two bullets missing. One bullet in the body. Curly seemed to have killer aim. Literally. Surely he wouldn't have missed the first time. He was kind of a big target. It was around that time I noticed that the gun I was holding in my hands was not the one Curly had a few days earlier. It must have been Walsh's. Self defense. I was feeling less guilty for helping Curly out. Tulsa was starting to become a kill or be killed kind of situation. Survival of the fittest. And apparently, Curly was fitter than Walsh.

I slid the gun into the waistband of my blue jeans, then laid out several garbage bags a few feet from the body.

"Where'dya want this?" Curly came in with the water.

"Just leave it there for now. We gotta move the body first." I told him. I looked over at the body, and the hole between his eyes, then back at Curly, smiling ever so slightly.

"I was wrong about one thing, Curly."

"Yeah?" He asked, "What's that?"

"Look's like you got some yarbles after all."

* * *

Miniskirt lengths tended to vary by continent. In America the more conservative 4-5 inches above the knee reigned but in London, 7-8 inches or more was considered hip.

The reason the dinner seemed rushed is because it was. I felt I was spending too much time on the Pony/Rose 'romance' sub-plot, and not enough time on the 'Crime' and 'Humor'

The names Curt and Rodney have no significant purpose or clever back story.

When I say cool glasses, I mean Bob Dylan kind of sunglasses. Look up a picture of Bob Dylan from the 60's. He's got cool sunglasses, man.

Confessions of an English Opium Eater by Thomas de Quincy was written in 1821. It was also made into a movie in 1962, starring Vincent Price.

Reasons to why a gang banger would have a few thousand dollars in his wallet will be logically explained in the next chapter.

The last line is this chapter is a reference to the last line in the first chapter.


	9. Home on the Range

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders, or anything else recognizable.

* * *

Me and Curly dropped by Buck's place before leaving the city. We, we meaning Curly, talked Buck into letting him borrow the car for the night. I drove in Bucks car with the map, and Curly followed in Jason's car.

We made several stops before reaching our final, well, technically, Jason's final destination. All in different towns. We had all the trash from our cleanup in several large trash cans in several cities across three states. We also cleaned out Jason's car. We found nothing of great importance. We did happen to find several baggies of what Curly tells me was heroin. I already knew that, though. Not that I used it or anything, but there were some pictures in a book I read in health class. We figured he must have been dealing.

We had lined Buck's trunk with garbage bags and tossed the corpse inside. We managed to find a chop shop and sold Jason's car for two hundred dollars cash. And when I say 'we', I mean Curly. Lord knows how he found it. I left him alone for three frickin' minutes and I come back to find him hanging up a pay phone.

It was a small ceremony. A Viking funeral. A violent J.D sent adrift on a Louisiana swamp on a piece of ply wood with some nails sticking out. You know… nothing fancy. Well, it was an attempt at a Viking funeral, anyway. It floated for about two minutes before sinking, extinguishing the flames before the body could be burned completely.

We stood around for a few minutes after the body sank. We didn't really say anything. As we headed back to Buck's car, I looked over at Curly and said, "I wonder if gators like their food burnt."

Curly laughed.

I laughed.

I went into the driver's seat. Curly made a wise crack about me not having my license. We laughed again, and Curly turned on the radio. The Rolling Stone's 'Paint it, Black' was playing.

As I drove away, I began to wonder. Would I start talking in my sleep, shouting 'Out out, Damn spot?' and all but confess my guilt? Would Curly? Hath Curly murdered sleep? Hath…I mean, have I?

Of course not. Why, A little water clears us of this deed! I laughed at the thought.

Curly looked at me strangely, "Are you okay, Pone?"

"Fine, Curly. Just fine," I told him.

Why should we feel guilty? It wasn't some random act of violence, no was it a planned attack on an unwitting enemy. Curly had nothing to gain from the kill, except his life. I had nothing to gain from helping him dispose of the body except…well…Curly.

Despite the difference of opinion on pretty much everything, and the fact that we spend half of the time arguing and calling each other names, he was my best friend. And, when I thought about, my only friend, now.

I mean, sure, there's Steve and Two-Bit. But Steve only seems to hang out with me because I'm Sodapop's kid brother. And Two-Bit's more like a brother than a friend. And they were all older than I was. Of course, it's only a few years, but still, they have other friends, and girl friends, and don't want to hang around with some smart ass 'little' kid.

I don't think Curly has any other real friends either. I mean, he is, after all, Curly Shepard. Not exactly the most likeable person in Tulsa. But he was Tim Shepard's kid brother. Tim's gang was infamous in Tulsa. I think Curly knows most of his 'friends' are really just using him to get in with Tim and his gang.

I noticed the song changed. They were now playing 'Light my Fire' By the Doors.

I smiled.

I was worrying about nothing, I realized. I had rationalized myself out of any feelings of guilt.

I loved being smart.

I glanced over at Curly, who was quietly singing the words to the songs. I started singing along, too.

That was pretty much the rest of the night…eh…early morning. Except for that one brief moment when the song Sherry by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons came on. I had gotten embarrassed and changed the station, while Curly laughed at me.

We pulled over briefly in Arkansas for a pit stop. We switched seats and Curly started to drive the rest of the way.

We were in Oklahoma at six in the morning. I had fallen asleep at some point before that, but was woken up by Curly. He had stopped the car, and was shaking my shoulder, and kept repeating, in a worried type of voice. 'Ponyboy…wake up Ponyboy…come on, Pone..."

"What the…" I jumped slightly, looking out the windshield.

"Buffalo." Was all Curly said, leaning forward on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead.

"Bison." I corrected. There were at least twenty of them, most of which were blocking the road. Several were surrounding the car.

"Huh?"

"American Bison. Bison bison. It's not a buffalo."

"What the fuck are ya talkin' about, Pone? It's called an American Buffalo, ain't it?"

"Yes…but it's not a buffalo. There are only two true types of buffalo, but those," I motioned to the large beasts outside of the car, "are not buffalos. They're bison's. Specifically, Bison Bison Bison. . There aren't any buffalos in North America."

"Then what are those huge fuckin' beasts I seen in Alaska?"

"When the fuck were you in Alaska?"

"Two years ago."

"Why?"

"We got some family up there."

"Oh…"

We watched the bison in silence, when I said, "Muskox."

"What?"

"In Alaska. What you saw were Muskoxen…or moose."

"I know what a moose looks like, Pony." He growled, " But I coulda sworn these fuckers were called Buffalo."

"They are."

"But you said…"

"That they are not Buffalos. And they're not. But people call them buffalos. See, Bison is really a Greek word. It means Ox-like animal, or something like that. And Buffalo comes from French fur trappers. They called them, "I pointed the herd in front of us, "'boeufs'. If I remember correctly, it means something like ox, or…bullock? Anyway, the words Bison and Buffalo mean practically the same thing."

There was another silence, and then Curly decided to point out, "You know a lot of useless shit, Ponyboy."

I didn't say anything. I just reached into the back seat and grabbed the sketch book and pencil crayons I had bought last night. I flipped to the first blank page and began to sketch the sight before me.

"How do you know all this shit, anyway?"

"Books…and a TV documentary."

Curly seemed satisfied with that answer. It was quiet in the car, now. Except for the scratching of the pencils on paper…and Curly rummaging through the glove compartment and our bags in the back seat. He took 'Confessions of an Opium Eater' out of my bag and started to read it. He only read about fifteen pages before closing the book and sighing.

"You know who's a good author?"

I inclined my head slightly, to show I was listening. It was an odd conversation starter for Curly.

"Fitzgerald."

I nodded, "I love Fitzgerald."

"Tim got all his books. I read most of 'em…ya know…when there ain't nothin' else to do…"

That was the extent of our conversation. It was another hour before the Bison moved out of the way.

We didn't get into Tulsa until seven that evening. We dropped the car off at Buck's. We stood outside on the sidewalk in silence for several minutes, until Curly asked, " What now?"

"What the hell do you mean, What now?"

"I dunno. It feels like we should be doing somethin…or…somethin'…ya know?"

"Sleep sound good." Aside from short naps in the car, neither of us has had any sleep in over 24 hours. "Possibly a shower."

"Oh…a shower would be nice…"

We walked home. We passed Curly's house first. We said goodbye and made some plans for tomorrow night.

I continued home, humming Paint it Black not so quietly, with my hands in my pockets.

So there I was, minding my own business, when, lo and behold, some dick-wad shoves me from be behind. I stumble forward, and turn around, facing a disgruntled looking hood.

"You part of the Shepard gang, aintcha?" He asked.

"What makes you think that?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. I just burned a dead body and helped someone get away with murder. I wasn't going to be scared off so easily by .

"That was the Leaders lil' brother, Wasn't it?"

"Yes…but I'd say that's a bit of a leap, isn't it? Walking with someone, and assuming they're both affiliated with the same gang?"

He didn't say anything at first, so I rolled my eyes and started to turn away, "I'm not part of the gang."

Apparently, he did have more to say. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. Once again, I stumbled and then took a few steps back.

"The others told me about you."

" 'The others'? Oh, boy. _That_ sounds ominous."

He ignored my gibe and kept going, "Yeah. They says you interrupted their work, a few nights back."

"Oh, they says that _does_ they?" My eyes narrowed. I assumed it looked threatening. "How are you so sure it was me, Huh? And where are 'the others', anyway? Don't you people usually travel in herds?"

"They says-" I swear, this guys grammar was bothering me, I'm guessing this guy wasn't the gang leader – " they was interrupted by some red-headed, smart ass little punk who talked to much."

There was a moment of silence, very deliberate on my part, then," My hair isn't red."

It took him less than a second to pull out a blade. I reached for my razor, when I noticed another bulge at the back on my waist band. The gun I put there last night.

I pulled it out and aimed right between the eyes.

"I'll give you to the count of ten to get the hell out of here." The big bad hood paled when I cocked the gun. "One…two…"

He turned and ran.

"And I better not see you around here no more!" I shouted after him, "Bitch!" I added. I thought it would sound more intimidating. " Yeah. That's right. You better run!"

"Yeah…alright. Cool." I said, tucking the gun back in my waist band. I covered it with my shirt and continued home.

No one was home when I got there. So I hid the gun in my night side table, then went and got a shower. A few minutes later I heard the door slam close.

"Anybody home?"

It was Darry.

"Yeah."

I finished my shower and got dried off. After putting on a pair of pants, I stepped out of the bathroom.

"How was camping?" He asked.

"Fine. Didn't get much sleep thought."

"Yeah? Why not?"

I shrugged. " Stayed up talking."

"About what?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"Anything. Fitzgerald."

"You and your friends talked about Fitzgerald on a camping trip."

"…yeah."

"What else?"

"Macbeth."

"Macbeth?"

"I was just as surprised as you are."

His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. Was he buying any of this?

"What else?"

"Well…we talked about the American Buffalo…music…uh…girls…Uh…Curt talked a lot about cars. A lot a lot. I couldn't really follow all of it."

He seemed satisfied with that. He nodded, and I went to bed. It took only a few moments to fall sound asleep.

* * *

The American Bison's Binomial name is Bison Bison. The plains bison , _Bison bison bison_ is one of two subspecies of the American bison

Paint it Black the Rolling Stones - 1966

Light my Fire- The Doors –1967

Sherry – Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons – 1962

I thoughts those songs would be on the radio in '68.

Fitzgerald, as in F. Scott. I wanted to slip him in somewhere, since The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is coming out in a couple of days.

The whole ' Hath ____ murdered sleep?' and 'A little water clears us of this deed' is from Macbeth, after Duncan's Murder. 'Macbeth hath murdered sleep, Macbeth shall sleep no more' was said by Macbeth showing the audience the guilt he felt, and the 'little water' is said by Lady Macbeth, showing her lack of guilt on the subject.

Happy Holidays!


	10. Downtown

Disclaimer: I do not own the Outsiders. As usual, the references are at the end.

* * *

I was alone in the house when I woke up.

It was almost noon. I usually don't sleep so late. Crawling out from under the covers, I made my way to the kitchen. I made myself some toast and thought I would enjoy a nice quiet breakfast.

Of course, that was too much to hope for. Before I took my first bite the door opened and slammed shut, with Two-Bit shouting 'Pony, you up yet?'

I sighed, "Yeah, I'm up."

"' bout time, you lazy bum."

"Who you calling a lazy bum, Two-Bit?"

"You. You never sleep in." He stepped into the kitchen, took one look at me and said, "Get dressed."

I managed to stop myself from asking 'why?' and asked as less idiotic question, "Where we going?"

"Out."

"Well, jeez, Two-Bit, care to vague that up a bit?"

"Don't you start crackin' wise, Pony."

"Why not?"

" 'cause if you start, I'll be outta the job."

I stood up, shaking my head, muttering something along the lines of 'crazy bastard' as I headed back to my bedroom.

When I left my room, now fully dresses, I rummaged around to find my new sunglasses. Two-Bit was- I kid you not- smoking a cigarette and watching Captain Kangaroo. We watched it until a commercial came on, and then we left the house.

As we walked, I started humming the tune of Flowers on the Wall. Two-Bit noticed, and joined in. We eventually started singing the song. Neither of us was very good.

We were in the middle of down town when Two-Bit deiced to stop, "Hey, hey. I know those guys."

I knew them, too.

"Met 'em a couple'a nights ago. When you went on that date with that girl that look like that model that looked like a boy."

"Rose."

"Naw, that ain't it…"

"Not the model. My girlfriend. Her name is Rose."

"Ooh, girlfriend? My, my, I didn't realize you two were serious."

"Haha."

"Ain't that your girl there with those guys?" He asked, squinting slightly and pointing towards the twins.

"They're her brothers."

"Oh…you didn't say she was British."

"She's not."

We started walking toward Rose and her brothers, when Two-Bit asked, "…is that a belt or a skirt?"

"It's a skirt." She had on one of those real short skirts she had on a few days ago, her purse with the black sequins and a tee shirt that was too small. Too small as in it showed quite a bit of midriff. It was white, and had a print of a Banana on it. I recognized it as a Warhol piece but didn't understand why it was on a tee shirt.

"Nice."

Rose was the first one to notice us approaching. It was a sight, the three of them together. Albeit an odd one. They all had the same hairstyle, which usually isn't too weird. Guys who hang together tend to have similar hair styles. Same with girls. But this is two boys and one girl with the same style. Not as common. Not to mention the fact that they all liked black eyeliner (mascara? I really don't want to ask), blush…eye shadow, lipstick. I didn't understand the appeal of wearing makeup. Although Rose went for a most casual look on this hot summer's day, Oscar and Sebastian had on light grey, tailored suits, and expensive looking shoes. If they're still going with the Right part- Oscar, Left part – Sebastian, then Oscar had on a pale green shirt, and a matching tie, and Sebastian's shirt was pale purple, again with a tie, but the heat seemed to be getting to Sebastian more than Oscar. He had removed his jacket, and had loosened his tie, undid the top three buttons, and had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows.

Rose seemed to be the only one trying to acclimate herself to Tulsa's youth culture. Failing, but trying. Not that I minded. She has some real nice legs…

She gave me a hug when I got close enough. And she gave me a kiss.

We decided to go grab a bite. This was good, because I didn't finish my breakfast.

The place was packed with the noontime rush. But there was a booth free, which we managed to grab. I noticed that Tim and Curly, and several others in Tim's motley crew had pushed a few tables together.

I saw down with Rose, Two-Bit went to get the food, and Oscar and Sebastian went over to the jukebox.

I noticed Tim nudge someone from his table, Roger, I think his name is, then gesture towards the twins. As soon as the boy stood up I knew there was going to be trouble. Rose seemed to notice, too. I told her to stay there, and that I would deal with it.

But apparently this was one of those 'blink and you'll miss it' types of moments. Because by the time I finished reassuring Rose, Roger was on the ground, and Sebastian was removing his tie and handing it to his brother. Both looked pissed.

Tim was now approaching the twins. Two-bit was, as well.

I ran over. By the time I got there, Roger had gotten back up with a bloody nose. I managed to wedge myself between him and Sebastian.

"Hold up, man…"

Roger was about to hit me. Tim stopped him before he could.

I'm so glad he's on my side.

"Ponyboy, are you friends with these queers?" He gestured lightly to the twins.

Oscar stepped forward, pushing his brother out of the way, " 'oo you calling a queer, you gormless tit?"

I chose this time to say, "Yeah, I know these guys, Tim…" But he didn't seem to hear me.

"Did you just call me a tit?"

Now I was no longer between Roger and Sebastian, but Tim and Oscar.

Luckily, Two-Bit intervened.

"Hey now, be cool Tim. Alright? Just be cool…"

Both boys backed down, then Two-Bit continued talking to Tim, "Now Samneric here are new in town. They ain't looking for trouble."

"And just how do you know them, now?"

"Pony's dating their lil' sister." Two-Bit jerked his head in the direction of our table. Rose, by this time, had stood up.

Tim seemed satisfied with this answer. He and Roger went back to their table. Crisis adverted.

But there no way we could only have one near-physical confrontation per day. No. That would be much too easy.

It happened as we were walking back to Rose's house. And it wasn't one of those 'Oh-it's-okay-they're-with-me' types of situations.

I said before that the Soc's don't attack as often as they use to. But what happened was they had mistaken the Twins for two of their own.

They pulled up in their shiny red Corvette. Three of them stepped out, strutting up to us like they owned the sidewalk. They had two girls in the back, leaning out the window.

"These grease ball bothering you?" said the first one, standing out in front. He had asked Oscar, who was in the process of lighting up one of his long, thin cigarettes. He took a big puff, and blew smoke in the Soc's face. The Soc turned his head, his upper lip turning into a scowl.

"Ney. No bother at all." Oscar said with a shrug, holding his cigarette only a few centimeters from his lips.

"Oi, " Sebastian said this loudly, getting the Soc's attention, " Does it flood around here, often?"

The soc's expression went from pissed to confused, "Huh? No."

"Then wots with the pants?"

He and Oscar laughed. Rose tried not to.

"Oh…Sebastian…you know who this bloke reminds me of?" Oscar asked.

"Who?"

"That annoying little puppet we saw on the telly this morning…oh…what was his name?"

Two-Bit laughed loudly, pointed at the soc and shouted, " Howdy Doody!"

"Yes! That's it. Thank you."

We all laughed at this.

The soc didn't find it as funny. He took a big step forward, shoving Sebastian back and knocking the cigarette out of his hand. "Listen here…"

"No. You listen here, mate," Sebastian shoved him back, then grabbed the soc's collar and turned him around, pushing him up against the building. The other two soc's moved forward to interfere, but Two-Bit and Oscar stopped them. Rose grabbed my hand. I glanced over at her. She looked worried.

"You shouldn't go picking fights with people you oughtn't." Sebastian was actually very intimidating. Frightening, almost. "If I ever see your bloody face again, I personally will kick your arse from here to…to…" He looked over at Two-Bit, all menace gone. His head tilted slightly, "Oh…bollocks. What's that silly city name you Yanks use in this situation?"

Two-Bit didn't seem to understand the question.

"Newport News?"

Sebastian shook his head.

"Walla Walla?"

Another head shake.

"…Oh!" I could practically see the light bulb over Two-Bit's head as he snapped his fingers, "Oh, you mean, Timbuktu?"

"Yes! That's it. Thank you." Sebastian turned his attention back to the Soc. He pulled him forward slightly then pushed him into the wall again, scowling once more, " I will personally kick your arse from here to Timbuktu!"

You think after interlude there it would be less intimidating. But it wasn't.

Sebastian pulled the Soc away from the wall and tossed him into his friends, "Now sod off!"

They didn't look too happy about it, but they did leave.

Crisis adverted. Again.

I felt that that was plenty of action for one day.

We continued to Rose's house, this time with no further confrontational interruptions.

* * *

'That model that looks like a boy' is Twiggy. Rose does not look like a model. She has the same hair style and body type. A look she worked very hard to get. Rose tries very hard to be as fashionable as possible. And since Twiggy was known for her high-fashion Mod look, and Rose was a 'mod', naturally she would be influenced by her.

Howdy Doody was a popular children's television show.

The Banana on Rose's shirt it a Warhol print, used as the cover of the Velvet Underground album ' The Velvet Underground and Nico'

'Samneric' is a reference to the twins ( Sam and Eric) from Lord of the Flies.

I also picked Roger because of LotF. As we all know, or should know, Roger was douche. An even bigger douche than Jack. And Jack was a pretty big D-bag.

'Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo' is a line from the song 'Flowers on the Wall' by the Statler Brothers, which is why Ponyboy thinks it funny that Two-Bit is having a smoke while watching Captain Kangaroo. It is also why Pony starts humming it as they are walking. In Pulp Fiction, Butch (Bruce Willace) is listening to 'Flowers on the Wall' after he got his watch from his apartment. Also, at the end of the movie, Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) tells Pumpkin/Ringo (Tim Roth) to 'Be cool' as he is robbing the restaurant they are in to keep him from shooting him, and possibly other people. This is why I have Two-Bit saying it to Tim to stop anybody from getting hurt. (It was a leap, I know )

The whole, "you gormless tit" and "Did you just call me a tit?" is from Angel, season 5, episode 12 'You're Welcome' as banter between Angel and Spike. I just wanted those two lines in there because I think they are hi-larious. And I'd probably never find another place to use those lines.


End file.
